Solstice
by reverse-swing
Summary: Post Paris (around eighteen months). Chance reunion. Winter angst, a smashed bottle of bourbon and some snow. One shot.


_**A/N: Some cards are laid on the table, but not quite.**_

 _ **Enjoy.**_

It might be a ghost, but then again it might not be.

A ghost of something, someone, some place…And time isn't a great healer, no matter what they say, just silvery, fish like scars where progress should be and a blooming self loathing, staining your core.

Today is Christmas Eve. And then she realises; she couldn't care less.

….

There's a man in the grocery store, buying a turkey dinner for one. At first glance, he seems overdressed for the visit, in formal slacks, a shirt and sports jacket and then Alex takes a closer look. The lapel on the jacket is frayed, the hem on the left leg of the pants unpicked and one of his shoes is missing a lace.

She smiles at him, he smiles back, revealing crooked, tobacco stained teeth. Her eyes flick to the ready meal in his hand, lingering longer than she intended and her facial expression must betray her thoughts, enough for him to acknowledge it at least.

'It tastes better than it looks' he says, holding the package up 'and these days, my appetite isn't up to much'.

She doesn't reply.

Happy holidays anyway' he adds, wandering off towards the liquor aisle.

'You too' Alex mutters back, but he's already out of earshot.

She dumps a bottle of bourbon on the counter.

'Anything else?' the shop assistant asks. Her mouth makes a clacking sound as she chews gum.

Alex doesn't even bother answering, just tosses some notes on the counter top and walks out.

'Merry Christmas' the girl throws after her. Alex is sure she is laughing.

….

Strangely, the second Christmas without Diane hurts more than the first. She figures it's because last year, she was still numb, part way through processing….absorbing…trying not to fall apart and then there was that delicious band aid; Heroin.

 _Rip it off in one go, it will hurt less._

Except it never does. Because pain is still pain, no matter which way you look at it.

And Piper Chapman was a solution. Of sorts.

Bad luck comes in threes they say. Alex has already lost count of hers.

….

It's starting to snow, but Alex can't quite bring herself to make her way home. Not just yet. To stare at the solitary card on the mantelpiece from a neighbor that she cannot even remember the name of. So she tugs at the collar of her coat, forming a flimsy shield against the chill and walks. Walks until she can't feel her fingers and toes, walks until she's lost track of time, where she is, how she got here. And then she's crashing into the warmth of a body, the liquor bottle slipping out of her hand.

'I never did like that Bourbon'.

Her voice is honey. Sugar and spice and all things nice.

Piper Chapman.

Alex stares down at the sidewalk, a myriad of tiny little fragments glint in the late afternoon gloom.

They can never be pieced together.

….

There are questions that she wants to ask, things that she wants to say, but instead, she allows Piper to pull her into the courtyard of a church, onto a damp wooden bench.

The gold of her hair, the blue of her eyes, it's far more vivid than she recalls. But sepia is safe. Stops her losing her mind. But only just.

'How have you been?'

A question so innocuous that Alex can't quite believe Piper is asking it. As if the last eighteen months belonged to someone else.

'Existing' she replies, before she can quite stop herself.

'You look well'. Even now, her manners are impeccable.

'I look like shit'

'Not shit'

'Then what?'

'Your eyes are sad'

Alex looks away, not sure what she will allow herself to say.

'You back in the city for good?'

 _You done with the drug cartel?_

'For now'

The snow is getting heavier, fluttering speckily flakes, becoming larger, and more persistent, forming icy sheets. But neither of them suggests moving, of breaking _this_ **,** whatever it may be.

'I'm sorry' Piper says and she's a little breathless, as if the words have caught her off guard.

'Sorry?'

'Yes'. Her eyes are wide, hopeful and part of Alex revels in the thought of dashing that, because it's only been eighteen months, the wound is still raw, the pain visceral; when it comes to this girl at least.

'Well fuck you and fuck your goddamn sorry!' she spits. And she turns away, because she knows, if she looks at that face for any longer, stares into those eyes any deeper, that she'll cave, because even after all this time, this girl can wrap herself around Alex's heart in a way that she cannot even begin to comprehend; an uninvited guest, to a place where only _she_ is welcome.

'I don't expect you to understand' she mutters. And then she pauses, 'Hey, you're shaking?' She places a hand on Alex's arm and Alex so wants to pull back, to recoil, to prove a point, she really does, but it's been so long since she's felt Piper in this way, that she cannot bring herself to do something quite so brutal.

'It's like 25 degrees, what do you expect?' she replies instead.

And then Piper throws her head back slightly and laughs and her whole face is changed: the old _her_. And they could be on a beach in Bali drinking cocktails, or watching Monty Python in Alex's apartment. No time has passed, no promises broken, no hearts shattered. Except they have.

'Well I know that' she replies, still smiling, 'but even so….' She turns slightly away from Alex, her fingers lightly tracing the knots in the wood of the bench.

'There was hardly anyone there you know' Alex says suddenly, slicing through the still. The words tumble from her lips as if she has no control, because they cannot be contained, they've been housed too deeply within her and for too long.

'Where?' Piper replies, her brow furrowed in confusion.

'At the funeral. Diane's funeral.'

'Oh' is all she can formulate. The abruptness of her response, the lack of anything much, lights a flame within Alex, the anger and upset of eighteen long months providing fuel and causing it to flare dangerously.

'I'm sorry, is this too _real_ for you Piper? Something you didn't want to hear?!'

'Al…I….'

'You couldn't even be my _friend_ ' she hisses. And she's suddenly back in _that_ hotel room. Paris. Watching Piper turn and walk away: defiant.

'I cried a lot' Piper whispers.

'What?'

'When I left the hotel….in the airport…..on the plane….last Christmas….last month….sometimes it feels like I've never stopped'

'You made your choice Piper'. She will not buckle. Not now.

'Don't you see why Alex? Not even after all this time?' Exasperation is clouding her words and she's picking at the skin around the thumb on her right hand, until it's red raw and throbbing: a siren.

'We should go' Alex replies, dusting fresh snow from the shoulders of her coat.

'Over there' Piper says, pointing to the doorway of the church. They hurry over, huddling underneath the stoop, leaning against the padlocked oak door. Their arms hang loosely at their sides, hands lightly bumping together and they're playing at _something_ , but neither of them knows what.

'Hey, if you had a Christmas wish, what would it be? ' she says, turning to face Alex, her warm damp breath make fuggy clouds in the air.

'To be some place dry….with a bottle of bourbon'

'Was that your plan for today?'

'Maybe'

'It's Christmas Eve Al'

'So?'

'So, you should do something special'

'Well I was gonna pour the liquor into a tumbler…..a crystal one even' she smirks

'Jackass'

And suddenly it's light again…nice even.

'And what big plans did you have exactly?' Alex asks, not sure if she wants to hear the answer, because a lot can happen in eighteen months, especially to someone like Piper Chapman.

She merely shrugs in response. 'Polly invited me to hers…'

'Ahhh, reliable old Molly'

'Al'

She grins.

'But now…..'

'Now?'

'I don't want to go to Polly's'

'Oh?'

'I've missed you so much'

'Piper'. She wants her to stop. Maybe. But she also doesn't. Maybe.

'I'm not saying things are ok, that they ever will be…I mean who knows…..but…'

'We're both too broken' Alex replies flatly.

' _Or,_ two jagged pieces that fit together'

'It's a cute sentiment, but you _know_ that isn't true'

And they're silent again. Still, until Alex can feel a gentle tugging on her pinky finger as Piper curls her own around it. She's grinning goofily, it makes her look younger than she is and Alex feels that familiar pull, tucked deep inside her rib cage. She takes several deep breaths, waiting for it to dull down, but it's futile she knows that, because this is Piper. Her and Piper.

'Alex…can we just say here for a little while?'

'Here?'

She nods. 'And just….. _be_?'

She opens her mouth to protest, but Piper's expecting it.

'I won't ask you for anything else…just this, I promise'. She's holding her gaze now, firm and true and in this moment, Alex knows that she couldn't deny her a single thing. So she nods, leaving their fingers entwined and watches the snow form a flawless carpet, lending an ethereal glow to the dank little courtyard.

'One more thing' Piper says suddenly.

'How did I guess?' Alex grins.

'Merry Christmas Al'

She laughs. 'Merry Christmas kid'.


End file.
